


Sleep With One Eye Open

by JoeTheSparkle



Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Eye Trauma, Gen, Gore, Im new to ao3 lemme know if i should tag anything else, Major Character Injury, This is extremely non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23123614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeTheSparkle/pseuds/JoeTheSparkle
Summary: The story of how Ramsey lost his eye.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Sleep With One Eye Open

Six years before the incident at Redwood Run.

* * *

Ramsey sighed as he slumped forward onto his desk. He was exhausted. Spending the better part of the day slowly transforming piles of dirt into gold had left him with extremely low stamina.

Well, nothing some food couldn't fix.

After safely storing each gold bar in a small safe lazily hidden behind a potted plant in the corner of the room, Ramsey called for his favorite Chinese take-out. He didn't usually like inviting people to his office, including the delivery guy. He'd rather lay low, better safe than sorry, he thought.

But he also knew it would be stupid to try to drive home as exhausted as he was. It was smarter to eat something first, build his stamina back up.

He finished calling his order and quietly set his cell phone on the desk with a sigh. Standing and stretching his arms until he heard a satisfying pop, Ramsey walked to the window of his office. Well, it wasn't really an  _ office. _ It was actually a second apartment he used in place of an office, a safe 20-minute drive away from his real apartment. 

Ramsey never felt safe conducting business at home. The last time he was arrested wasn't much of a big deal, the police still didn't know about his little embezzling business yet. He knew logically that he was still relatively safe, but he never truly felt that way.

He stared absent-mindedly out at the cityscape, resting his elbows on the dusty window sill. A pink sunset melted into deep purples, blanketing Sweet Jazz City as street lights began to flicker on. It was… serene.

Ramsey shut the blinds with a whirr.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, quick and loud. Ramsey looked up. "Food's already here?" he mumbled to himself, pleasantly surprised as he made his way to the door.

Opening it, Ramsey found a young man, must've been only a few years younger than him, standing in the hallway. With no food.

"Mr. Murdoch." 

"Uh… I think you forgot the egg rolls. And everything else," Ramsey said, glancing up and down at the man.

"Wha- I'm not a delivery boy." The man looked confused at first, then offended. "I'm from Identity East Inc." He sounded angry, but his voice shook nervously.

It was at this point that Ramsey recognized him. The same messy hair, same awkward grimace carved into his face. He was a coffee-runner or something, worked for that CEO guy. He was a doormat for the company's higher-ups, standing nearby awkwardly as Ramsey had negotiated hundreds of thousands of dollars in exchange for gilded dirt. Ramsey felt a lump form in his throat.

The man took a step forward into the room. Ramsey stepped back.

"A-ah! Good to see ya again! Can I, uh… help you with something?" Ramsey's voice wavered despite himself.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Ramsey jumped at the man's sudden outburst. Even though his voice was still shaking and his body was trembling slightly, it was clear he was serious. Ramsey couldn't stop himself from trembling as well. "My boss sent me to give you a message. All the 'gold' you sold us turned into dirt." His speech seemed forced, rehearsed.

Ramsey's heart dropped to his stomach. Trying in vain to usher the man back out the door, he managed to squeak out, "I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Shut up!" He took another step forward into the room. In one swift movement, he drew a knife from his coat pocket and aimed in Ramsey's direction.

Ramsey slowly raised his hands in defense. "Whoa, h-hey, let's… let's talk this out, yeah?" He continued to back into the room, eyes darting between the man's face and the blade in his left hand.

"I said  _ shut up! _ " The knife glinted in the dim light as he swung.

There was a brief moment of nothing, suddenly pierced by a low scream as Ramsey crumpled to the floor, clutching his face. His fingers met torn flesh, already oozing with warm blood.

He couldn't see out of his right eye at all, and his vision blurred in his left. Ramsey gasped for air, choking on his own breath as his rapid breathing became disjointed. His heart was beating so hard, so fast. Everything felt numb, yet at the same time he could feel everything. Every drop of blood, every torn muscle in his iris, every ounce of his body screaming at him to  _ do something. _

He was only vaguely aware of his attacker, panting heavily, taking another step closer, a pained expression on his face as he raised the knife again.

In a burst of adrenaline, Ramsey flung out his left hand, turning the knife to gold. Under the sudden weight, the weapon dropped, clattering onto the carpet. The man stepped back in horror, staring down at his hands as his own fingers began to transmute. Hands now stiff and unable to even try picking the knife back up, he turned and fled.

It could have been seconds or hours before the thumping of his footsteps finally faded down the hallway, Ramsey couldn't tell. He shakily pushed himself up off the floor. His head spun and stomach twisted as he stood, one hand still grasping at the side of his face, the other leaning on the wall for support.

Ramsey activated his Epithet, hoping he might at least numb the pain and stop the bleeding by turning his eye gold.

But nothing happened. His Epithet didn't work.  _ Why didn't it work?!  _ Was it a lack of stamina? Was he in shock after that adrenaline rush? Both?

His breathing once again became heavy and uneven as Ramsey grew increasingly frantic.

_ What do I do what do I do what do I do _

_ I need a hospital… I need to- _

Ramsey swallowed hard and forced one slow, unsure step after another, dragging one hand along the wall and pressing on his eye with the other. It took everything in him to keep from fainting with each small motion.

Unable to carry himself down four flights of stairs, he had no choice but to wait for the elevator. He slammed the elevator button repeatedly, hoping it might make the stupid thing faster. He staggered in the second the doors slid open, leaning against the handrails.

As the elevator began its descent, Ramsey's curiosity got the best of him, even through the pain, exhaustion and panic, and he glanced at his reflection in the metallic doors. He immediately wished he hadn't. The cut was deep and his eye was practically split in two, oozing a clear liquid. Blood had dripped all the way down his face, staining the collar of his suit, and his hand was completely soaked in red.

Ramsey felt his stomach twist again at the sight, and his ears rang as his already limited vision began to blur even more.

What felt like an eternity passed before the doors finally opened with a ding. He dragged himself out into the lobby of the apartment building, growing more and more dizzy with each step.

The pain was getting too much to bear.

A few feet out the front door, Ramsey stumbled, head throbbing.

Suddenly he was laying face-down on the sidewalk. He didn't remember how he got there.

He heard a faint, distant buzzing which sounded vaguely like a woman's scream.

He closed his eyes.

  
  
  
  


Ramsey faded in and out of consciousness. 

Bright lights glared down from overhead, the siren of an ambulance drifting through his ears as everything around him shook from the movement of the vehicle.

Two or three voices, shouting frantically.

One person was gripping Ramsey's wrist, forcing his hand away from his face, while another person was pressing a towel against his bloody eye.

He could see their lips moving, trying to talk to him, but he couldn't make out any words.

Everything grew fuzzy again.

  
  
  
  


Ramsey awoke to a dull numbness which unfortunately didn't alleviate his splitting headache. Everything felt heavy.

He was half-laying, half-sitting, propped up against a stack of flimsy pillows. Unsure of where he was or how much time had passed, he glanced around at his surroundings. No windows, but dim lights and sterile white everywhere, except for a few glowing monitors. "Hospital…" he mumbled to himself.

He glanced at the IV stand next to him, his gaze following the line connecting it to his inner elbow. The needle felt miserable under his skin, and he refused to admit that he probably needed whatever was in it. He stared for a minute before gently tugging the cord out of his arm.

Suddenly remembering why he was here, Ramsey reached a shaky hand up to the side of his face to find a thick sheet of cotton over his right eye, securely stuck on with excessive amounts of medical tape. He peeled it off, wincing as it pulled on his skin. He chose to ignore the blood stains on the inside as he tossed the bandage aside. 

It took immense effort to keep his breathing steady as he ran his calloused fingers down the long line of stitches running from his eyebrow to halfway down his cheek. His eyelids had been stitched shut, and his eye socket felt hollow. His fingers lingered over the thin wire holding his skin together as his hand began to tremble.

The door swung open. Ramsey jumped and whipped his head around, eyes (well,  _ eye _ ) wide. 

The doctor looked up from her clipboard. "Ah! Don't touch your face!" she scolded, rushing over and taking Ramsey's hand in her own and pulling it away from his face. Ramsey only stared in response. "I can't believe you took off the bandage!  _ And _ you took out the IV?! Jeez… We had to perform an emergency surgery. It went well but there was still a lot of trauma to your face. You need to let it  _ heal!"  _ She gave an exasperated sigh and began taping a new bandage over Ramsey's eye. He didn't have the energy to try and fight it. "I'm glad to see you're awake, though. How are you feeling? Do you know what happened?"

Ramsey couldn't process half of what she was saying. "How long have I been here?" His voice was hoarse as he spoke.

"Only about seven hours. But are you feeling alright?" She sounded stern, and ever-so-slightly impatient.

"No."

The doctor frowned, taking a seat on a stool next to the bed. "I suppose that's understandable. It's not easy losing an eye, physically or emotionally." 

So she had just confirmed what Ramsey already knew but refused to believe. Still, hearing it said so directly was a punch to the gut.

Ramsey looked away. A long, awkward silence ensued.

"Well, I just came to check on you real quick. And it's a good thing I did," she said accusingly while she poked the IV back into Ramsey's arm. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I know you probably just woke up, but right now you need to rest. It's very early morning, so try to sleep. And  _ don't touch your face, or the IV, _ " she added as she left the room, closing the door with a soft click, leaving Ramsey alone once more.

After a moment he leaned back, letting his head hit the pillows with a soft  _ fwump _ . He was  _ so tired,  _ but he knew there was no way he would be able to sleep. Not after everything that happened.

So he stared at the ceiling instead.

  
  
  
  


A day or two passed and Ramsey was released from the hospital. No matter how many times he tried to explain he wasn't safe, the staff insisted there was nothing more they could do and that the police were looking for the suspect.

A bus ride back to his apartment and he was on his own. He stumbled around, stubbing his toe over and over again as he struggled to adjust to his newfound lack of depth perception. Occasionally neighbors from down the hall would stop by and ask how he was doing, but every knock at the door made him tense. They were well-meaning, but…

For three days, he could barely sleep, always feeling the need to sleep with one eye open. And as Ramsey quickly learned, it was near impossible to do that with only one eye. He would lay awake staring at the wall, trying and failing to keep his thoughts from running wild. 

_ I'm in too deep, I was careless and look where it got me, I'm missing an eye, I could've been killed, what if they come back to finish the job _

But… no one ever did come, much to Ramsey's surprise.

About five days after leaving the hospital, Ramsey was trying to distract himself by idly flipping through channels on tv when something caught his eye. He clicked back a few channels, back to the news station. Prominently displayed on the screen was a mugshot of the man that attacked him. Ramsey leaned forward on the couch, jaw dropped, fully paying attention now.

Jamie Willis, 25, mundie, had been arrested for attempted murder thanks to some security footage. The picture looked as if he had been crying.

A small part of him wanted to feel bad for this guy, who was very obviously manipulated into attacking him. That tiny bit was quickly pushed aside by the ability to breathe easy for once.

Ramsey sighed in relief, finally letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in for an entire week. He chuckled to himself. "Bet you're feelin' real sorry now, huh kid?"

Finally a chance to relax, even if it was only temporary. Ramsey knew he would never be truly safe again, but a small victory is a victory nonetheless. Even if he didn't directly participate in achieving said victory.

  
  
  
  


Life went on. Ramsey slowly adjusted to sight with only one eye, and even started taking up art. The stitches had been removed and the split in his eyelids had mostly grown back together. There was an obvious scar, but Ramsey didn't particularly mind - he thought it made him look "cooler and more intimidating".

Occasionally he would still twitch at the sound of a loud knock at the door, but he learned to control that pretty quickly.

Three months after the incident he decided it was finally time for a prosthetic.

As Ramsey stepped into the clinic, the little bell hanging from the doorframe jingled, announcing his arrival.

"Oh! Hi! Can I help you?" The man at the counter, short and bubbly, lifted his head at the sound and smiled. He looked at Ramsey like he was the first person he'd seen in months. Must not get much business here.

"Uh, hey. I need a, um..." Ramsey pointed awkwardly to his eyelid, closed to conceal the emptiness behind it.

"Prosthetic?" He finished Ramsey's sentence for him.

"Yeah. You sell those here, right?"

"Of course! We have pre-made ones, or you could custom order-"

Ramsey cut him off. "Oh, I just want whatever's fastest."

"Oh, sure! Here, I can show you all the ones we have right now." He led Ramsey to one of the back rooms, lined with small glass display cases full of eyes. Ramsey side-eyed them. They were fake, of course, but still.  _ Creepy _ .

He was shown row upon row of prosthetic eyes of varying sizes and colors. There were even a few painted to look unnatural; strange colors, patterns, one even looked like a bug's eye. Ramsey chuckled at it, even considered buying it as a joke. But no, he had plans.

The owner of the clinic found one that was fairly similar in color to Ramsey's natural eyes. He held it up next to Ramsey's missing eye to judge the size. Ramsey bent down slightly so he could reach easier.

The man looked up expectantly, without saying a word.

Ramsey stepped back to get a better look. "Eh, sure. I'll take it."

  
  
  
  


Back at his apartment, Ramsey wandered to the bathroom mirror, eye in hand. After fumbling with it for a bit, he eventually figured out how to place it in its socket. He blinked a few times as it settled into place. Might be a bit small, but not uncomfortable.

Without removing his hand, Ramsey activated his Epithet and let the gold spread from his fingertips into the eye. It shimmered in the light. He grinned. Much better.

His own way of returning a message to that company and whatever hitmen they could throw at him. " _You_ _tried_."

**Author's Note:**

> Ramsey is one of my faves so of course I must make him suffer.
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with how parts of this turned out but I couldn't get it any better than it is now, so I figured I might as well post it before it bugs me too much


End file.
